


Criminal

by SquidbillyBritt



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquidbillyBritt/pseuds/SquidbillyBritt
Summary: Felicity’s life was flipped upside-down, the world as witness. With nothing left she fled, burning the bridges painfully behind her. At least that’s what she thinks, but the past always has a way of catching up with us. And her’s is angry.  Oneshot (Well now its a two-shot). Complete. Angst, but a fun end!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so my my Beta FairyTaleHearts!! She make's this readable. Let me know what you think! I listened to Criminal by Unions while writing this, if you want the heightened experience. Finish with Surrender by Natalie Taylor

 

* * *

 

 

Criminal

 

* * *

 

Felicity couldn’t say her life was going according to plan. Her once obvious future now gone, blown to smithereens in under twenty-four hours. 

Everything she’d worked for, the people she’d trusted, all of it was gone. The exact moment the trajectory of her future shifted happened in a most unexpected way. The sudden veering of direction dislodging years of carefully laid plans, backfiring in her face like the joke was on her the whole time.

As badly as Felicity wanted to blame someone, she knew the fault was of her own. There wasn’t anyone on this green earth who’d put her in her current predicament. The resulting isolation left an aching sting that wallowed deep in her bones. 

The bed she was sleeping in had been in the making for years.

Felicity was now, and always had been, nothing more than a criminal, a runaway, and a thief. 

 

* * *

 

In seventh grade Felicity had been asked the standard question all kids were asked.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

Even in the inexperience of her youth she knew. 

Computers called to her, they comforted her in the quiet two-bedroom apartment she shared with her ever absent mother and long forgotten father. In the dark of her room, lulled by the soft glow of a luminescent screen, Felicity had learned a new dialect of code like it was a secret language. 

For hours she lost herself in the tangled weaves of wires and gears, learning the power of hidden doors and secret locks. As she grew, cracking codes in her quiet domaine, she learned how doors and walls were never quite so locked, nor uncrackable, their contents unfolding scandalous secrets for her eyes only. 

The tunnels and avenues endlessly twisted deeper. The obsession one Felicity fell into with delighted vigor, pealing the layers away meticulously and learning a self-inflated knowledge rimmed with the touch of possibility. 

So when the juvenile question of future career opportunity was brought up, Felicity already knew. 

Her mother always said she was too smart for her own good and Felicity was not impressed by the standard options, knowing what she wanted wasn’t a normal desire and already one far beyond her years. 

She would never be a police officer, not a fireman, future politician or doctor. She would protect and serve in her own way. From behind her keyboard. Unbidden by the constraint of red tape government agents windingly navigated through. 

Felicity would help the little guy by taking down the big guy in a way others couldn’t. She would save all the chumps being crushed by a system that protected the powerful and enslaved the poor. The bullies her mother was forced to answer to, the ones too big to fail, too rich to fall.

She didn’t know at the time how all the pieces came together, but she knew her calling was to something bigger than herself. Bigger than the complex processing systems and endless code she could build and write in her sleep. 

That drive fueled her through adolescence, pushing her to seek like-minded individuals with similar views and specialized talents. Relentless hours went into grooming and preparing them for a mission, one that once started could never be stopped.

The very act of cracking open pandoras box. 

There was no going back. 

They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and while years in front of a computer screen required Felicity to wear glasses, she was sickened to have missed the error of her ways. 

The one equation she hadn’t anticipated was the equation of her line in ruins. Like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Felicity had crashed mightily, seared by that sun. 

Once an impenetrable empire she’d built from nothing, painstakingly crafted and created over long years, was now a cruel and twisted version of her childhood dreams. The slates of grey shaking the foundation of her black and white views of the world. 

She was surprised it had taken her all of twenty-six years to discover her hubris, the cracks splintering like breaking glass.

“Can I get you anything else, Sweetie?” The soft twang pulled Felicity from her self-loathing. 

With a smile that felt too fake Felicity shook her head, wringing locked fingers around her porcelain coffee mug. 

The waitress smiled politely, the blatant pity in her gaze burning a line of resent through Felicity. She was better than this, better at hiding her emotions from her face, and the realization of her raw transparency made her itch to leave, to keep going, away from here, far away. To _run._

“Just let me know if you need anything hun,” the woman placated, gesturing to the half filled coffee pot in her hand. 

Felicity could only nod with a tight smile, her eyes skittering to the bright widow as the waitress vanished from her peripheral. 

This was definitely _not_ how Felicity had imagined her life going. 

Blue eyes slid to the bag sitting in the booth beside her. The bag that was her solitary companion on her now aimless journey, her only real lifeline to the world, every secret she’d uncovered, every truth she concealed, everything she’d known and had from before Helix—.

Felicity jerked away from the thought, the familiar lick of panic edging into the limbs of her body, a tingling sensation starting in her fingertips warningly.

Now was not the time to have a panic attack. 

The very last thing she needed was to attract any type of attention. 

A flickering from a fuzzy TV nestled in the corner of the small diner caught her eye, freezing the blood in her veins. A charming smile caged by a rugged scruff and icy blue eyes evoking a visceral reaction, her throat closing with the sudden onslaught of emotions rushing through her body. 

A paralyzing shame had her slinking away from the memories, one hand grabbing the bag at her side and the other digging hastily for the change in her pocket. The desire to hide, to run—as if these people knew her—winning over her downtrodden desire to stay and wallow in the images like a voyeur desperate for glimpses of a better life.

Felicity knew she didn’t have that right anymore.

“That’s that Queen boy isn’t it?” A man at the counter asked, the scruff of his voice traveling the small distance in the diner. The waitress from before cocked her hip along the counter, turning towards the television with her arms crossed. 

“Sure is. I’ll tell you, I sure don’t envy him right now.” The waitress commented lightly, the images and sound bites flashing on the screen one Felicity recognized from a past appearance. She could recognize him with her eyes closed. Commonly saw him behind her closed lids in the small parts of her deepest dreams.  

The man scoffed, looking away from the TV and down to the empty cup in his hands, “Even if the boy is innocent it’s hard to believe he’s not guilty of something. The upper _elite_ always have dirty hands.” The lack of empathy stung Felicity, made her want to scream and demand an apology. He didn’t know these people, didn’t know that man, what right did he have to condemn him without knowing the full truth?!

The apology would never be demanded though, her lips pursed, the reason he was being crucified in the media an act of her own hand.

“Being rich doesn’t make you guilty.” The waitress commented where Felicity couldn’t. 

“It doesn’t help his case any. You can’t seriously believe those people are moral citizens. They can buy their way out of anything.” The stranger countered, his tone one of obvious exasperation. 

Felicity could feel her temper tightening further. She had about all she could subject herself from, and with a steady step she slid from the booth, throwing bills on the table before making her way to the entrance. Her ears were still ringing with the continued exchange happening, glueing her eyes to the floor as she walked past them, head held low.

“They sure can hun, but a small part of me is still rooting for the kid.” It was a shocking display of empathy for Felicity. Most people would never think past the thirty second sound bites they saw in magazines and on TV, but she was happy someone had. 

Oliver Queen was a good man, and he hadn’t deserved what she had put him through. 

Felicity could hear the scoffing following her out of the diner, the nip in the air helping clear her clouded head. 

“Yeah we’ll see.”

With her back turned she didn’t see the granulated photo of her face pop onto the screen, a trailing red banner rushing information by rapidly. The small, “huh, she looks familiar,” trailing off behind the closed door.

Felicity chose to walk over catching a cab, the steady foot fall and distant city noise quieting her crowded thoughts. She allowed herself to think about a new plan, what she had to do, where she had to go, but even still her plans would lull, her mind diverting, driving her back to Starling City.

Back to Oliver Queen. 

She wasn’t supposed to meet Oliver. That was never part of the plan. Even from the beginning he was an unexpected presence, his role changing the whole dynamic of her master plan. 

And it was _her_ plan, which made it all the worse. Felicity had lied to Oliver from the beginning, she had planned to use him, to steal from his company, and to sink the unsinkable elite of Starling City, one rich prick at a time. 

But Oliver wasn’t what Felicity thought he was. 

And Felicity was never who Oliver thought she was.  

Everything about Felicity was fake, from the name she gave him to the web of deceit she attempted to pull over his eyes.

Felicity knew Oliver Queen, and Oliver Queen knew Megan Kuttler, the one from the IT department. 

Initially Felicity had tried to brush the encounter off, committing herself to keeping the man at arm’s length, never straying from the mission. 

Her thoughts would traitorously wander though, drifting back to the shockingly soft smile, the subtle shifts of his mighty body, the way his eyes _burned_ like a physical touch that was unexplainable. 

The subsequent instances she had with him were intense. The fervent pull Oliver had over her body was unexpected, and Felicity didn’t know how to process the waring emotions in her soul. The guilt that followed hot on her heels with every exchange and long look had brought her so close, on so many occasions, to blurting the one truth out. 

Her name was Felicity Megan Smoak, child genius, criminal mastermind. The infamous hacker Overwatch. Creator of Helix. 

She was on a job, no one knew her face, and scant few would ever suspect a woman. She was easily overlooked and used the persona to slip into many beneficial situations. 

Felicity was tasked with planting a bug that would show Helix every nook and cranny of Queen Consolidated’s mainframe to use however they saw fit. Whatever that might look like to further the cause.  

Things changed though when Oliver came into the picture, busting through every wall and facade Felicity had ever erected around her heart and made her question the very foundation of her life. All without ever even knowing what havoc he wreaked.  

The predicament was only heightened when Cooper came calling for the information she’d collected on Queen Consolidated. Felicity hadn’t been ready though, and had foolishly hesitated, unsure what she was doing but stalling for more time. At her persistence Cooper impatiently conceded, though as days turned to weeks he became increasingly suspicious of her involvement with Oliver. He’d demanded she send over whatever info she’d collected already and Felicity dragged her feet, working desperately for a plan to sabotage the mission. 

However, Cooper had sensed the change in Felicity, and his responding change in tactics bad been so swift it made her question his loyalty from the beginning. The new threat was very real, the power of Helix binding her hands and tipping the control from her fingers.

The threat of doxing her on every platform connected to the internet. A threat that put new dangers on the forefront from angry enemies and government agencies alike.  

It put her back against a bomb and a shaky finger on the trigger. 

Felicity franticly tried to weigh her options, pushing Oliver away while planning her escape and still maintaining his innocence. Helix would not let this transgression pass. Felicity would know, because she never would either. Helix had been a ruthless force behind her, and with Coopers coup d'etat, she could only imagine what new horrors the organization was involved with. 

A frantic plan was hatched, Felicity settling on fixing the biggest mistake she’d made first. She set to patching the network, working tirelessly on writing and re-writing codes and formulas, planting new information where the seedy secrets were nestled now. Unexplained holes were plugged and hard information was removed, encrypted and tucked away to analyze another day. 

It was by God’s saving grace alone that she had the plug installed the day Cooper called her bluff, exposing her like he’d threatened after an explosive conversation. 

And with the whole world to see, her entire life was rightly turned upside down.

Felicity had packed her bags the second her name popped on the internet, knowing the local media would pluck it up like wild fire the second they connected the dots between her and Oliver. 

She fled in a cowardice moment, not strong enough to see the betrayal on Oliver’s face as she hightailed it out of his life forever. 

The media had flocked to him, hounding him on his involvement with the infamous ‘Overwatch’ and Helix creator. Other government officials also took an interest in him, as Felicity knew they would, and subsequently subpoenaed any information in regards to her. They wanted answers, why was Overwatch working for Queen Consolidated? How did she go undetected for almost eight months? Why was Helix interested in QC? What exchanges happened—everything. And they took everything they could, combing with the finest comb for any decimal out of place.

With the CIA’s mum assessment the public demands turned loud, furious questions hurled about from anything to charity, robbery, scares and even assassinations, the conspiracy theories racing online in droves. Angry accusations were hurled at the company, and a drop in Queen Consolidates’ stock scared holders. 

It was a grim time, but the silver lining was soon it would go away. 

While the CIA still had their nose in QC Felicity knew it wouldn’t last long, there was nothing to be found.  

She’d made sure of that.

The spotlight on Oliver had cast a shadowed veil for her quick escape, and in the chaos of press and public fury Felicity was able to slip away undetected. Only one misstep away from capture, she evaded detection skillfully, unplugging strategically and taking the first chance and whatever road she could out of Starling.

In trying to protect Oliver she had still left a black mark on his reputation, the suspicion of deceit now fresh on the public’s mind. 

It burned worse knowing it would be a hot topic in his recently announced campaign for Mayor. 

He could probably kiss those votes goodbye. 

Any chance of redemption for Felicity was gone, and she knew this all while writing the plug for QC. She would happily sacrifice any semblance of happiness with Oliver to save him from her seedy life in the darkness. 

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but one that brought her a small comfort. 

Felicity _had_ found activity in Queen Consolidated though, and she imagined the info was such that even Oliver wasn’t privy to the contents. 

Most of the nefarious workings had been done under his father, Robert Queen, before his untimely death in a boating accident. But the accident might not have been too accidental, and the digital print of Moira Queen was rimmed suspiciously deep along continued leaks and patterns that didn’t fit at first glance.  

Felicity had pulled all that info into a small drive she carried around with her now, tucked close to her body at all times. She had hurt Oliver in unimaginable ways, and leaving this information with him would only crush him further. She refused to allow him the burden of her mistakes.

He would continue to believe in his company, and Felicity would protect his secret by whatever means necessary. 

She was smart enough to know that Oliver would probably never know what she had done for him. 

 _Because_ of him. 

If she had done her job properly he, nor anyone, would ever know, and Felicity would willingly carry the betrayal like a martyr to the grave. Continuing on in the only way she knew, hopeful for the day Oliver would have happiness with someone again. 

Even if that happiness wasn’t with her. 

With her mind spiraling down darker paths Felicity was happy to see the familiar break in the tree line.  

The dingy hotel unfolding around the corner was a less than reputable establishment, the paint faded from years of sun bleach and weather abuse, doors stained with discolored patches. Far from a night at the Hilton but it served it’s purpose. As depressing as the space was, it was also discrete.  

Her room was nothing spectacular, not much of a surprise, but it was all Felicity had for now. With four walls, a small bathroom, bed, and ample enough wifi, it was a temporary rest stop in her escape. 

She’d already stayed too long, knew as much, and was still too close to the outskirts of Starling to feel comfortable. 

The pay by the hour hotel had enough internet to navigate her next route carefully, staying off the grid however she needed to, carefully avoiding cyber detection. 

Felicity knew she should have traveled further when she’d first set out, but she hadn’t found the strength to distance herself so quickly. 

She recognized now she’d already long overstayed, and wouldn’t make that mistake again.

With a quick dash Felicity was across the bed, throwing over the sheets haphazardly in a quick make-up. She was getting on her knees to doublecheck beneath the bed when a light knocking sounded on her door.

Felicity froze, holding her breath and staring over the bed with wide eyes at the door, her only barrier from the unknown. With ice in her veins she willed whoever was on the other side to go away, thinking for the briefest moment she might have heard something in her paranoia.

It had only been a small sound. 

The knock sounded again, the noise a soft tap, but the rapping a loud beacon. 

The hotel had no windows to escape from, and it sounded like whoever was on the other side wasn’t going to leave. 

With no other escape there was only a head on approach to be had. 

Slowly Felicity raised from the floor, tiptoeing cautiously to the peep hole. 

She leaned forward, surprisingly steadier than she felt, while bracing the tips of her fingers against the door and squinting through the small hole. She couldn’t see anyone on the other side and held her breath a moment longer, the pounding of her heart loud in her ears. 

The silhouette of an arm reached out, rapping on the door again with the same light staccato, the vibrations running through her fingertips igniting a cold fear along her spine. 

She didn’t know what prompted her to do so, but her hand reached out, one grasping the door handle, the other pulling the short chain from the door slowly. With veins pumping in trepidation Felicity released the lock, holding the chain carefully so it wouldn’t clatter against the frame. 

The person on the other end must have been listening for the lock though, for the second the dead bolt clicked in its release She knew she no longer had the upper hand. The knob suddenly turned beneath her fingers, her whole body being shoved back and away, the door slamming closed as quickly as it had opened. 

The breath knocked from her body as she was pinned suddenly to the wall behind her, a towering figure looming before her.

The daunting hulk of man was unidentifiable for but a second, the natural scent of _him_ coupled with the sloping lines of muscles one she had become painfully familiar with; ones she never though she would lay eyes on again except through the lens and barriers of technology. 

His sudden appearance brought forth all the conflicting emotions. Foreboding and longing joy rushed to the forefront, clogging her minds ability to calm her racing heart, a tight ball settling in her stomach.  

It was a joy she didn’t deserve to feel and suddenly the reality brought a crushing anxiety down on her shoulders. 

“Oliver.” She whispered into the still air, the name choking off silently.

His eyes burned her, the raw emotion and heated anger as clear as the clandestine blue. 

The muscles in his body were tense, the set of his mouth a hard line. His rugged brow was furrowed, eyes tracing slowly along her shocked face, jaw clenched in tight fury.

The struggling play of emotions gave his uncertainty away, but Felicity didn’t know what that would look like for her. 

Was he here to have her arrested? To demand answers? Silence the problem for ruining him? 

She would deserve it all. 

No, Oliver would never hurt her. Felicity knew that. That still didn’t explain why he was here though. 

And here Oliver definitely was. 

Her chest was only a heavy inhale away from touching his, her neck cranked to stare up into the angry blues baring down on her. Strong arms barred her escape, his massive limbs only a twitch away from hers. So painfully close, but ever careful not to touch.

The tension in the air was thick, and there was more than an ocean between them.

“Did you think you could just run away like that?” He demanded, his voice low and controlled. 

Felicity swallowed softly. He was here for answers then. She’d planned what to say in the scenario of some distant future where he’d pry her for information. But it was always years from now, months even, not a week, a week of raw emotions and regretful memories. 

Most of all though, Felicity was tired of lying. 

She didn’t want to lie to him anymore.

“How did you find me?” She asked softy, grateful her voice hadn’t failed her. 

“Diggle.” 

The one worded answer was oddly enough, and more than she expected in the first place. Felicity had suspected there was more to Diggle than what met the eye. The man loomed in the shadows as Oliver Queen ‘personal security’, but she knew better than that. Felicity had never been blind to the side looks and synchronicity that only came along working with someone. Not for them. 

What right did she have to feel suspicious of Oliver though, she was the one who betrayed him.

His secrets could never compare to that. 

Felicity didn’t know what to say, there was so much, and nothing left. She had been stripped bare, every secret exposed for all the world to see. She had tried to clean up what Helix had leaked, but it was one thing to scrub a closed server and another to scrub the entire internet. 

Oliver’s eyes grew angrier at her silence, her reservation stinging.

“Do you have nothing to say?” He demanded, continuing before she could answer, the emotions building in his voice, “You think you can just come into my life and leave it like you did? And for what? What do you have to show for it?”

Every question was like a dagger straight to her heart. 

“Was it just a sick joke? Trying to work your way up whatever ladder you’re climbing?” He pushed away from her angrily, looking around the pitiful room with a sneer. The sudden distance made Felicity’s head spin, his outburst paralyzing her legs.  

Oliver standing here before her, speaking with such a harsh tone, was somehow more painful than ever imagining a life without him. 

“It doesn’t look like you’ve accomplished whatever game you had set out.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Felicity yelled, unable to contain her silence, the desperation for the truth rushing to the forefront. He could think poorly about her all he wanted, but it was never a game to her. Oliver was never a game. 

“What was it like then?!” He demanded, rearing back into her orbit. 

Felicity looked away, unable to see the harsh anger directed at her. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.” She muttered, shame making her unable to lift her eyes to his. 

“ _What_ wasn’t supposed to happen? You stealing from my company? Lying to me? Deceiving me?”

The knot in her throat was almost too tight to breath around.

“Or making me feel something for you?” A hot flush of shame rushed through her body, “You were just using my emotions to get whatever you wanted out of me? Made me feel things to make a fool out of me?”

It was too much.

“No!” the yell tore from her throat before she could stop it, the rush of words tumbling from her lips. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! I was only supposed to infiltrate Queen Consolidated, I wasn’t supposed to even meet you!” She recalled the day he almost caught her breaching their system, the coincidental encounter changing the course of everything she’d set out to do. 

Oliver didn’t say anything, his eyes giving nothing away. 

“I couldn’t,” her voice faded out, eyes finding the floor, “I couldn’t go through with it.” 

An incredulous scoff sounded. “The media circus and agents knocking my door down make me think otherwise.” Oliver spat out, coiling his body into himself and glaring down at her. 

Guilt choked Felicity, her chest tightening at the reminder of what she’d created. “It was the only way to repair what I’d done.”

There was a new question in his rugged stance. 

“Repair what? What was Helix after?” 

It felt less like a question and more like an interrogation. She would subject herself to this interrogation though. It was the only one she would. 

“What did you give them?” Oliver asked quietly, the insinuation bulking her back up.

“I didn’t give them anything!” Felicity defended hotly, unable to let him think that little of her. Her burst of anger lifted her eyes to clash with his, shocked to see not a flicker of emotion pass over his face. 

Oliver stared at her blankly, almost as if looking through her. Felicity knew better though, a turbulent sea was behind those eyes.

“Then why did you run away?”

The question felt ridiculous in light of everything else going on and Felicity couldn’t contain the sarcastic scoff. “Everyone from here to Thailand has my entire life at their fingertips, how could I stay?!”

It was true too, the dox Helix threatened had been very real, and Felicity knew that very real consequences would follow her actions. 

When you’re a child your dreams don’t factor in repercussions. 

Felicity’s penance would not go unpaid. She had cheated, robbed, and distributed far more than could be overlooked. There was nothing in her bleak future that was promising. 

Her life continuing on in the blanket of lies she had sewn. 

The following silence was cold, Felicity staring Oliver down. Oliver, staring Felicity down. 

She knew she didn’t have the right to be angry, but she was, she was angry. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was an earnest question from Oliver, desperate for the real answer, underlined with guarded distrust.

Looking up at the man before her, she realized just how deeply she had damaged something special, and it ached to come face to face with the crumbled ruins. Fissures of regret ran along her nerves, unbidden tears springing to her eyes. 

Felicity had asked that question to herself more times than she could count.

Why _hadn’t_ she told him?

“I couldn’t.” She muttered shamefully, blinking her tears away. 

In hindsight Felicity realized she probably could have, but that time had come and gone. 

“What did you take?” Oliver asked mutely, the fight leaving his body while his stance stood rigged and closed off. 

The question had her clutching the bag closer to her chest. 

There was no way Oliver could’ve known she took anything, he wasn’t as logistically literate as she was and doubted he knew her digital finger print. Even if he did, Felicity had made sure not to leave any trace behind.

“I didn’t—,”

“What did you take Megan?” Oliver demanded, uncoiling from his post and taking a step into her personal space, knowingly using the wrong name. 

Felicity stared up wide eyed, her inner turmoil waging a hard war. 

“Why are you still lying to me?” Oliver asked softly, the first vestibule of pain from her betrayal seeping into his voice. 

It was another stab to Felicity, wondering how much more she could put him through.

Oliver had always been a complicated man, and Felicity had seen through the layers and walls he put between himself and the world. It had been so easy for her to see the real man beneath the mask, which made her betrayal burn all the worse. 

“There’s nothing good down that path, you’ll always be left looking for new pieces, analyzing everything. It shatters something.” She finally warned, giving into the selfish desires to defend her little honor, to show him all she had actually done.  Oliver wanted the information anyways, and who was she to withhold it from him. He already didn’t trust her.

“More than it already is? Surely you’ve seen the news. Do you not see the pieces I’m currently picking up?”

Oh, she’d seen them and more, and she suspected Oliver knew as much. 

Felicity clutched the weighted strap to her body, her knuckles wringing white, her heart kicking into her throat. She wanted to give Oliver this info even less than Helix.

Felicity heavily swallowed. 

Once she did that there’d really no longer be any reason to see Oliver again.

The wash of emotions clogged her throat.

Was that why she’d really held onto it? 

“ _Felicity._ ” Oliver pleaded, her name on his tongue breaking her thoughts. The caress of syllables falling from Oliver’s lips had her pulse jumping, the last layer of her resolve crumbling to ash. It felt as though he was looking at her for the first time. No more masks, no more deception. 

Oliver Queen was looking at her; Felicity Smoak.

To hear the plea she could no longer hold back. 

Wordlessly Felicity reached into the bag, going for the pocket she kept the USB drive secured and gathered it tightly to her palm. 

This might not be the easy choice to make, but it finally felt like the right choice in a long line of wrongs. This was the exact reason Helix had been unsuccessful in its mission. Felicity had been doomed from the start, when Oliver had walked into her life and ignited an unimaginable spark to life. 

Oliver had long since compromised Felicity. 

He made her want to be a better person. 

Made her want a better life. A life she could never have. 

With a heavy heart and twisting stomach Felicity reached out slowly, handing the usb over gently to the quiet man. Oliver took it silently, staring at the small device with a brooding look. 

“What’s on here?” He questioned after a long moment. 

“Those are the files I uncovered.” Felicity quickly replied.  

“What files?” Oliver snapped, impatience heating his tone. 

“Files from QC’s server,” she replied ambiguously, not wanting to spill all the sordid details.

“But you didn’t give it to them?” The tone was oddly accusatory, but Felicity didn’t reply. Her deception was sitting as clear as day in his hand. 

It was obvious by this point that she hadn’t handed the files to Helix.

“What’s on here?” Oliver asked again, the question less hostile than it had been a moment before, his voice holding a quiet reservation. 

“Nothing good Oliver,” Felicity sighed, steeling her back for the rush of information she was about to give him. “They’re files detailing hedge funds and shell corporations Robert Queen created with Queen foundation funds. He’d set up Queen Consolidated to do his misgivings from the moment the first brick was laid. The list is long, but later he started working more under the books.” Felicity told him clinically, watching the flash of emotion race across his face.

“What?” Oliver uttered in confusion, disbelief clouding his eyes. 

“Robert Queen was funneling money into the criminal organization behind something call _The Undertaking_. Mr. Queen along with other Starling elites were involved in a rejuvenation initiative that…” Felicity trailed off, the truth of such a heinous plan still jarring to imagine. She didn’t want to be the one to tell Oliver that. 

Oliver turned away, rubbing a hand across his face and pacing forward a step, then two, his body a wide flank. Felicity had never seen someone master brooding so beautifully in her life, but the shift in demeanor had her nervous.

“Helix first uncovered The Undertaking three years ago.” Felicity continued, seeing recognition light in Oliver’s stance. 

“Malcom Merlyn,” he mumbled, recalling what’d happened to the man years prior. 

No one knew where Malcom Merlyn was now, his disappearance a sudden one that was still unexplained, leaving behind a Fortune 500 company for his son Tommy to take control of. 

“Helix used the info it had on Merlyn to get what they wanted. He fled town after realizing the full scope we had on him.”

“They blackmailed him.” Oliver realized.

“And extorted him.” Felicity completed. “Helix runs under the delusion that they steal from the rich and give to the poor.” Felicity knew first-hand how far that delusion ran, she had once drank the koolaid. 

“My mother?” Oliver asked, and Felicity knew what the question was. 

She couldn’t bring herself to slander Moira Queen, but once Oliver read the disk, he’d know.  

He shook his head, looking down at the innocuous device with a furrowed brow. 

“They were blackmailing you?”

The question was unexpected and Felicity was surprised to feel so taken aback. 

“…I created Helix, Oliver. I’m not a good person.” She settled on, knowing that to be the final truth. 

“I don’t believe that.” The retort was swift, and it brought Felicity a small comfort to know he didn’t think she was the scum of earth like she currently felt. 

“The federal agents would disagree with you.” She bantered, aching at the familiar tone she could no longer take with him. 

“You didn’t give them this.” Oliver told her, pulling Felicity from her quiet reserve and holding out the USB.

“I couldn’t.” Felicity confessed after a second. 

Oliver curled his fingers around the drive. “Why?” He questioned, taking a step forward, creeping softly into her personal space. 

“I was compromised.” Felicity finally whispered, her voice hushed between the space. 

“How?” Oliver probed, taking another step into her atmosphere, drawling her eyes up to his.  

It was a loaded question, with such a simple answer, and the resulting rush of tears springing in her eyes had her swallowing thickly. 

Felicity smiled a sad watery smile, her heart bared as raw as her soul.

“You.”

Oliver’s eyes slid from her eyes to the tear streaking along her face. Silently he leaned towards her slowly, pulling his free hand forward and ghosting his fingers along the slope of her dampened cheek. 

His fingers scalded the skin it grazed. He was so close, the musk of his scent permeating Felicity’s senses. Oliver created an uncanny euphoria in her world, making her dream new dreams. The near threats of Helix and other worldly dangers slipped away, the seductive sense of possibility like a drug to her deprived soul. 

Felicity almost believed they could go back and explore what was blooming before them. Before it all shattered.

A car door slamming shut brought Felicity back to the preset with a sudden crash. 

It didn’t matter what was said now. There was a price on Felicity’s head, and with Oliver kicking his campaign off to be Mayor there was no room in his life for reconciliation. 

Felicity was a criminal. 

Oliver Queen to be Mayor.

They could never be together. 

She had ruined that for them.

Felicity reached up, taking Oliver's hand from her face and allowing herself a second to savor the heat from his body before dropping his hand and taking a step away. 

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” she told him, seeing hollow dejection reflected back at her. 

The air was suddenly suffocating and Felicity needed air. She needed space, a dark hole to lick her raw wounds in. She needed a clean break if she was to try and do anything with her future. 

“Was any of it real?” Oliver asked, his face set, the lines firm. 

Felicity couldn’t prevent her hand from raising, allowing only her fingertips to graze the scruff stubble along Oliver’s chin, her eyes following the trail of her fingers.

His hand came up, grasping her hands and pressing her fingers firmer into his cheek. 

“Let me fix this.” he pleaded, refusing to see what obstacles hindered them from ever being.

“You can’t Oliver.” 

“I can. You can’t slip in my life and leave it like this.” Oliver was never the type of man who could be told he couldn’t do something, and Felicity knew he’d come to realize their inevitable downfall in the future. 

“I’m a criminal Oliver. What future could we possibly have? You’re in the running to be Mayor. I’m in the running for an orange jumpsuit.” She pleaded with him to understand, to not make this harder than it already was. 

“I can fix this.” He stubbornly persisted. 

“You can’t!” Felicity cried out, her emotions getting the best of her, the heat of his hands on her searing her. 

“I have to try!” Oliver finally yelled, his grip on her hand crushing. “Why won’t you let me try? Give me a chance, give _us_ a chance Felicity.”

“I’m so sorry Oliver,” Felicity rushed, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling over. She couldn’t stay in this spiral; it was breaking her heart into unrecognizable pieces. 

“You have to destroy this,” she pleaded, slipping her hand from his to grab the one clenching the drive. “Destroy it and make something great of your life. I patched QC, there’s nothing on the servers that could incriminate you but this. You have to destroy it.” She gasped out through tears, slipping past his form quickly. Felicity couldn’t stay in this room any longer, she couldn’t be this close to him right now, her will was crumbling, but there was nothing left for her to go back to. There was no escape from her punishment. 

The tumultuous thoughts chased her to the door, the knob a lead weight under her hand. 

Oliver didn’t move from his position, staring blankly at the spot she’d just been, and Felicity couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye, all words leaving her as she twisted the handle. 

With a finality Felicity didn’t feel she opened the door, pausing at the determined voice from behind her. 

“Don’t think this means I’m letting you go.”

Felicity couldn’t help but look back at the determined man. He was a sight to behold, and she would treasure this last moment just as tightly as she treasured the first.  

“You have to.” She whispered, turning with a casualty she didn’t feel to run towards a future she didn’t want. 

His eyes burned into her turned back, the torrid mix of emotions ranging from anger to determination. 

“I won’t." 

And Felicity could only wish he wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

Oliver pinched his nose, practicing the breathing techniques he’d learned years ago in a long forgotten place. 

‘ _Felicity._ ’ He thought, his hand clenching at his side.

That woman had driven him insane from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. 

At first it was shock, Oliver hadn’t realized the company had hired new employees in the tech department. He prided himself on knowing the inner workings of Queen Consolidated, it was how he’d carefully built his empire. 

He and Diggle were in desperate need of tech support so Oliver had taken a chance on testing new potentials when suddenly she had been there.

Bright, happy and beautiful. 

A ball of unattainable sunshine. 

The sight of her had been a surprise, the sudden tilt of his axis had taken Oliver’s breath away.

For a moment he’d seen happiness, happiness he hadn’t seen in such a long time. 

Oliver’s mission was one he’d long since sworn his life to, the darkness caking his world an unimaginable concept to all but a few.

His father had shipped him off to boarding school at the rebellious age of fourteen. 

Oliver wasn’t there long though. 

Meer months after his enrollment he was attacked along his path to the dorms by a group of masked men dressed like they were from some cheesy comic book. They plucked him from the only reality he’d ever known and dumped him in the slum of some mountains with people who were certifiably insane. 

For five years Oliver was imprisoned, first by force, then with brainwashing. The League of Assassins they called themselves. Led by an iron fist and zero leniency, Oliver was beaten and berated into submission, their mission slowly unfolding before him. Over time they trained and perfect him for their tasks, grooming and readying him for wars to come. 

The truth of Starling was uncovered methodically, the lewd and lascivious comings and goings a black mark on Oliver’s view of his rose hued world.

The League had released Oliver back to his home finally, confident in their strong hold over him. 

That had been their biggest mistake. 

It had been jarring to return to the open arms of his mother and father. The kidnapping was never something talked about, the five-year gap glazed over in conversation as if it had never happened. Everyone walked around egg shells when he walked into a room. The incident kept under a tight hush, Moira long since paying the appropriate pockets to keep mouths closed and cameras off. 

Life seemingly went on. 

For Oliver it was different though. Always his senses were on heightened alert, ever waiting for orders from the League, ready for the next mission while pretending to be the whole boy his parents miraculously had back from madmen, and not the broken man he knew he was. 

His nightmares kept him awake, his nerves ever on edge. 

Oliver was a walking time bomb. 

It wasn’t until his mother hired a bodyguard, one John Diggle, when reality started to come back to Oliver. John was a steady hand and fresh perspective Oliver had long ago lost. He pushed him to question everything taught and ruthlessly ingrained in his mind from years of control under the League.

It was under this mentorship that Oliver learned what type of man he wanted to be.

He’d branched away swiftly at that point, creating his own space, a bunker, and learning his own ways in the dark of the night. He did this all while waking up to plaster a fake smile to his lips and buckle down to learn and explore the inner workings of Queen Consolidated. 

It was a tumultuous time, but Oliver had learned to separate his lives flawlessly. 

After his fathers death things changed. 

A company suddenly without a head Oliver was thrust into the light like the sacrificial lamb. People rooted for his failure and it fueled his drive late into the evenings. The balance had to be re-established, but the new raise accompanying his elevated stature helped his nightly resources greatly. 

The Billionaire Bachelor title gave Oliver surprising leniency for his time management in the company as well, the stigma a perfect cover. 

And for years that’s how it went. 

The streets were safer, criminals had real enemies, and finally the playing field was evened. 

Then she had just _been_ there. 

And when she’d smiled at him Oliver thought of something else, something beautiful for the first time in years. 

The memory was still one of his favorites, and regardless of what name she had used, Oliver knew. 

He knew she felt it too. 

Oliver couldn’t help but feel compelled by her, seeking her out accidentally for one reason or another, just to talk to her, to graze his hand along the slope of her elbow or see the bright shine of her eyes from behind her glasses. 

He was so blinded by her that he glossed over the things he saw. Never connecting the dots or reading the cues. 

John always said his softest spot was for those closest to him. 

He just hadn’t realized how close she already was. 

She’d been acting off the last time Oliver had seen her, and he’d walked away with a sinking feeling that couldn’t be shaken. He’d known something was off. 

Oliver had been wrong though. So, so wrong. 

After the initial explosion of information was released and the rush of lawyers flocked to his aid, the reality of what had been going on right _below_ his nose burned like hot acid in his gut. 

He couldn’t believe Megan would do that, but then he’d learned her name wasn’t even Megan, it was Felicity!

_Felicity_

Oliver tipped his hat to that of the fool, allowing a woman to slip past his shields so easily and shake the very foundation only to disappear into thin air like she never existed. 

But _Felicity_ had another thing coming if she thought she could run away that easily. 

The phone in his back pocket started chiming in perfect timing to his musings, the caller one Oliver was waiting for. 

He pulled the device to his ear, waiting only long enough to hear the line connect. 

“Did it work?”

There was a brief pause, a few clicks ticking in the background a half second longer until, “It works,” called out, the voice of John Diggle, “Ms. Smoak’s GPS is pinging and ready to follow.”

Oliver hung up at the confirmation, pulling an app open on his phone and seeing a bright blue bubble connect before darting along the map, traveling a consistent path away from town.  

“It’s not that easy anymore Felicity,” he told the traveling dot, “Now you can hear what I have to say about all of this.” Oliver pulled the small drive to his eye line, flipping it slowly in his fingers. 

He didn’t know what was on this disk, and didn’t know if he was ready to see what it was. There had been enough upset in his life this past week. He knew eventually it’d be watched, but the beating of his heart gave him pause. There was no rush to look at the information now, his company was safe. QC’s equipment had been returned after nothing had been seemingly found. 

There was nothing to be found either. Felicity had cleaned his company so thoroughly that it was eerie, not a decimal was out of place. No one could disprove it. QC lawyers celebrated, but Oliver had felt cheated. 

Cheated of the chance to explore different avenues, formulate a more effective plan. The haunting question and hot fury swirled with betrayal, made him want to demand answers. 

Oliver was a stubborn man as well, and so he sought out his answers. 

He’d found his response. 

The very fact that Felicity had given him this drive was enough. Her truth brought the rush of memories and stolen moments to the forefront of his mind, the feeling still thrumming through his veins. His heart still strummed with the same feeling. She was still the same woman, and what they had shared, for how little they had together, Oliver knew it had been real.

The reveal of Felicity’s deception and subsequent disappearance became a festering need for answers, and Oliver didn’t try to resist the pull of following the spark that set his world on fire. 

Felicity thought she knew the truth, and here they had both only been giving out half-truths. Two sides of the same coin, they were.

All of Oliver’s feeling of betrayal and anger had fled with the drive in his hand. The realization that Felicity had betrayed her people to save him. As much as she might not see it Oliver could, and he fostered hope that they could find a way out of this.

There was always something that could be done. 

That was a truth Oliver had learned in the beginning. 

He felt a small tinge of guilt, wondering if things would have gotten so out of hand had he also been more revealing of his own misdeeds.  

Oliver had his own connections, both lower than the Glades to higher than DC. Regardless of what Felicity might think, the Oliver Queen she imagined was faultless, a victim of a scheme, but blinded by his arms length hold on her, trying to keep her from his darkness. Oliver knew he was not a good man. He was not the man she painted in the moon, and for once in his bleak life, the more nefarious acquaintances of night could have helped, could possibly still help. 

But that could never happen if Felicity kept insisting on running from all her problems. 

“We’re going to have a talk about that another day,” he told the blue dot, letting her get some distance for now. There were still things Oliver had to wrap up at Queen Consolidated, along with Verdant, before he could dedicate himself to finding Felicity.

‘ _I’m not letting you go that easy Felicity,’_ Oliver thought, sliding a pair of black gloves from his back pocket and over his hands, striding to his discreetly parked Ducati. 

‘ _It’s about time our two worlds collide._ ’

Oliver couldn’t help the small smirk from lifting his lip. The petty part of him hoped she was mad when she found out what he’d hidden from her. 

It would return the favor.

‘ _Later_ ,’ Oliver told himself, cranking the engine to life and pulling onto the pavement to speed along the road to Starling. ‘ _I’ll read the documents later. Today is forward though._ ’

And for once Oliver was diving forward, towards a new goal, not looking back at the shambles from his past.


	2. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter I never knew was needed. Or the one-shot that wouldn't let me sleep. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was only supposed to be one chapter, but now its two. Hope the second doesn't disappoint! All mistakes are my own.

 

* * *

 

Ghosts

* * *

 

The soft smile drew closer, every sparkle of sun and fold of masculine lips revealing gorgeous whites, the picture one of high definition. Clandestine happiness had her bones yearning to slide closer, and as if beckoned by the thought himself, slowly he drew near.

 

She couldn’t comprehend the ferocity which she would anticipate this moment, and would forever be changed because of it.

 

The minuscule space between them was charged, fingers clenching nervously, eyes hooded, even against her every desire to keep them open. To boldly stare at the beauty before her. To brazenly commit every inhale, every twitch, every tilt to memory.

 

With blood vibrating in her veins and heat pouring like riveting waves through her body, her ears burned to hear her name falling from his lips, knowing the sensual caress would come, and knowing it would be her undoing.

 

His tongue peaked from behind teeth, lips curling with promises to be fulfilled, her future changing with the passionately uttered syllables.

 

“ _Megan_.”

 

Felicity jerked awake, heart pounding, body buzzing, the trails of her dream leaving an aching pain in her soul.

 

With gasping breaths she raised her hands over her hyperventilating mouth, a staggered inhale choking into a tight sob.

 

Torture. Her mind tortured her even still. Years of absence and still her crimes haunted her in the most treacherous ways.

 

_Years._

 

Even still, after all this time, she dreamed of stolen moments with him.

 

She missed him so much. He would never know how he still haunted her.

 

How her very soul still ached for him.

 

But more than anything, she cried for the heartbreak her mind would never let her leave.

 

Never would he call her name.

 

Felicity

 

Felicity

 

She wanted to cry out in misery, scream her desperate rage loud enough for the world to hear. Hands clenched tighter around her gasping mouth. She would only ever allow herself this moment, when sleep and wakefulness overlapped, to wallow in her agony.

 

Quietly, alone.

 

Mocked by a world of her own doing.

 

He always called to Megan. That name bundled in deception and heartbreak, like a sick gift her memories loved twisting before throwing back in her face to wreck her in ways only regret could.

 

She’d give anything to be her. To be bare of it all.

 

To be _Felicity_.

 

* * *

 

Gotham was nothing special.

 

Just another dark and dangerous city in the ever corrupt world of espionage and betrayal. Felicity was okay with that though.

 

She felt a certain kinship with the criminals, lived in a bad part of town, walked the streets at night alone.

 

A part of her knew it was a self inflicted damnation, and the other part couldn’t find it in her to care.

 

She belonged in the slums.

 

It was easier to get lost there. Easier to blend in.

 

People didn’t ask questions. Everyone was hiding their own lie, protecting their own secrets.

 

Felicity was just one of the masses. An unrecognizable face blending into the crowd. Her once artificially blonde locks now the natural shade she’d always fought from before, the mousy brown too dull, too plain in her vibrant world.

 

Now, however, the blonde felt too bright. The color of sunshine, so happy, accented with pops of color dancing on her lips and painted nails always a delightful hue of the rainbow.

 

The shell of who she used to be, or who she was now.

 

It didn't matter, that person was a contradiction to who she was today, that happiness, the naive hope coupled with a zeal for life that had her bumbling over words which could never fall fast enough from her lips, someone she could barley remember.

 

Everything about her felt different. 

 

Felicity was the name she gave to those who asked. Unwilling to lie about that part of who she was any longer. A defiance in the grand scheme of things that couldn’t be shook. 

 

It didn’t make a difference though. She was careful to keep her name out of databases that mattered, choosing to work freelance jobs that put enough money on the table and exist quietly in the world.

 

Exist.

 

That’s all she was doing. Existing.

 

The passions of her life felt extinguished, the near brush of death from her past only a blip on her senseless journey.

 

She was in exile, existing only as a means to an end.

 

Whatever that end may look like.

 

Her clothing had long since shifted from that of tight skirts and loud patterns, to snug jeans and monochromatic shirts. They matched easily with the vans and converse she slipped into now, a far cry from her once fashionable heels. A bland blend of attire that kept wandering eyes from noticing her, allowing her to slip in and out of crowds unnoticed and unrecognizable.

 

Her new armor in life.

 

Even now, with nothing but her dearest possession hanging from her shoulder, walking the streets alone like she usually did, Felicity knew she would be overlooked. An unobtrusive slip of a woman, possibly sad to those who would see her, wondering what she did to end up in a place like this.

 

If only they knew. Then the looks would be less sympathetic, less pitying.

 

The crashing of a shattering window had Felicity slowing her walk down the dimly lit street, briefly glancing over her shoulder to the noise from behind her.

 

Gotham, ever living up to it’s name.

 

A bursting staccato of pops like fireworks had her clutching the strap on her shoulder tighter, her feet picking up to get off the streets faster, her heart jumping in shock.

 

While she was aimless in life, she still didn’t have a death wish.

 

And Felicity knew gun fire when she heard it.

 

Screaming and hollering had her ducking into the first ally she could find, knowing all the back streets that could connect her to her apartment, and wanting to be off the streets police would soon be patrolling.

 

If anyone suspected she saw anything there would be questions.

 

Questions which always led to more questions, many of which she had no answers.

 

None to give at least.

 

Adrenaline began to lick her heels, the thoughts chasing her through the darkness urging her to move faster.

 

Her steps widened, the thoughts of prying questions—even the simplest of who she was—more terrifying than the firefight happening around the corner.

 

So absorbed in the thoughts tunneling through her head Felicity missed the blur of movement from above, a dark shadow tumbling suddenly from the sky, landing heavily, mere feet from her.

 

Felicity skid to a halt, the sudden appearance of a dark mass hunched over itself causing her throat to close in terror. Her heart thud loudly, her mind racing with the new possibilities and factoring in the new equations as he slowly eased himself into a rightened position. 

 

And it had to be a he, because _he_ was huge.

 

“Great,” she mumbled to herself, palms sweating and wringing against the strap on her shoulder, the impending sense of doom urging her to turn back now, to not stick around any longer, to avoid any unnecessary interaction, to be as invisible as she normally was.

 

The only thing worse than the police was Batman, and she’d never wanted to cross paths with that particular creature of night.

 

Apparently her mouth was louder and ran away far longer than suspected, for in a split second he went from a slow rightening to a tense stand, his body turning tersely towards her, dark hood pulled low over a shadowed face.

 

While Felicity had never personally encountered the masked crusader that prowled the streets of Gotham, she knew enough about him to recognize his own flare for recognition in uniform.

 

“Oh, you’re not Batman,” Felicity gasped, taking a step back and assessing her exits quickly.

 

If this was a foe of Batman this was certainly a foe of hers. At least the Bat stood for some grey semblance of justice.

 

This guy was just a nut!

 

If it was at all possible the figure before her grew even more stiff, his body rigid and standing straight towards her, impossibly broad shoulders casting an ominous shadow over his looming frame in the most sinister way—her mind racing for a solution.

 

Maybe she could outrun him?

 

Her only escape would be to exit from where she entered, and putting her back to an unknown felt less than ideal.

 

He took a measured step forward, his body bathed in shadows until a faint light cast a peak of clarity on his towering frame.

 

Felicity felt her throat closing up as she recognized a compact bow grasped in his gloved hand, realizing suddenly who was standing before her.

 

The Green Arrow.

 

The Green Arrow of Starling City.

 

The Starling City she had exposed and left to ruins, the same city that she once proclaimed to run in secret, and clean in pride, under the criminal organization of Helix.

 

The same city that had a masked vigilante whose motto she, as well as every criminal, knew well.

 

And Felicity had certainly lived up to that motto.

 

Had she done so horribly that the _Green Arrow_ would need to collect on her debt? Even after all these years?

 

Felicity really didn’t want to stick around and find the answer to that question out, and without giving it a second though she turned on her heels, springing towards the entrance she’d just come from.

 

She was not but two steps in her retreat when the twang of a bow string and thunk of an arrow lodging itself into a pipe beside her head had the pressure exploding with a wheezing pop and torrent of hot air spewing out violently. Felicity heard her scream echo horribly along the brick walls, dropping reflexively to her knees and covering her ears as her heart leapt in terror.

 

He really was here to kill her then.

 

She had truly failed the city.

 

With a chocking terror she stood quickly, turning to face her punishment and staring wide-eyed at the figure that loomed before her, now much closer than he previously was.

 

Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, adrenaline coursing through her veins, air rushing through her lungs in quick gasps, her eyes wide and dilated, fixed tightly on the figure before her. Felicity was mildly surprised she couldn't see anything past the shadows of her accusers hood, even from how close he now stood from her.

 

They didn't move. The stand off tense, drawling the anxiety from her soul and leaving her shaking in her bones before him.

 

From the corner of her eye Felicity saw his hand raising, reaching towards her. She clenched her eyes tightly shut, her body frozen, unable and unwilling to stare death in the face.

 

A longer moments breath had her lungs shuttering, desperate for the last gasp of air on this earth, the sudden scent of leather invading her nostrils and subtle shift in air snapping her eyes open in wide confusion.

 

He stood before her, hand outstretched, gloved fingers clutching a lock of her long hair, unmoving and frozen.

 

Her heart was pounding, making it impossible to hear anything else around her.

 

From this distance Felicity could see so much more, and she found it easier to stare unabashed at the figure before her, eyes wide, lips gnashed between teeth.

 

Straps and buckles criss crossed strategically along the leather armor he wore, bow tucked behind his back, the metal fletching of arrows peaking from the quiver fashioned to his back. Around his neck Felicity could see the light of technology—possibly a voice altering device—and higher still to the shadow of facial hair framed by a mask coupled with shadows of an impenetrable darkness hiding any discerning facial features.

 

The only telling thing was the tight clench of his jaw. The muscles balled angrily beneath the scruff in direct contradiction to the gentle caress of her natural tresses clutched between his fingers.

 

From everything Felicity had ever heard of the Green Arrow, this was certainly not one of them. He was a man to be feared by criminals, but his judgement was always swift and concise, without reprieve.

 

He seemed to be struggling with her judgement.

 

A cop car flew past the entrance of the alley, sirens blazing loudly, red and blue lights strobing across the forest green vigilante, the sudden onslaught of reality breaking the odd spell. His body jerked back as if he’d been struck by electricity, hand dropping her hair swiftly and taking a step back suddenly.

 

The constriction around her chest lightened only marginally, her eyes watching intently as he reached behind his back in one move, firing an arrow into the sky and disappearing from in front of her just as quickly as he’d appeared.

 

Felicity blinked hard at the empty space in front of her, trying to wrap her mind around what just happened, mouth opening and closing in astonishment, terror, and the wash of cold relief. The wailing of another sire broke her own state of disbelief, followed hotly by a new burst of adrenaline which had her bones shaking and legs trembling beneath her.

 

She waisted no time grabbing the bag that had fallen to the ground at some point, and sprinted to the exit, intent on barricading herself in the small apartment she owned before she could truly evaluate just what had transpired.

 

She’d been face to face with death, and lived to tell the tale.

 

Again.

 

* * *

 

 

‘ _Arrow do you copy?…Arrow? Green Arrow do you copy?’_

 

No.

 

No, he did not copy.

 

The voice of his counterpart urged in his ear for a response, and even still he found himself immobile, his body a tight coil of muscles, shocked eyes staring down at the opened hand he’d just touched a ghost with.

 

A hand he’d just touched _Felicity_ with.

 

Of that Oliver was certain.

 

It _was_ Felicity.

 

But Felicity was dead. She had died. Even after four years he still felt the pain of her loss like a fallen limb.

 

Even after his refusal of the facts, refusal of the coroners report, refusal of his own tracking system going dark, refusal of the constant pleas to move on, to accept reality.

 

She was _not_ dead.

 

He was always looking, always watching, long after everyone close in his life had urged him to move on, frustrated with his inability to let it go. To let _her_ go. 

 

He’d never stopped. He’d just gotten better at hiding it. At hiding the pain he refused to accept.

 

To accept that she was gone.

 

Felicity was smarter than that.

 

She _is_ smarter than that.

 

Oliver’s throat felt like he’d swallowed a brick, chest tight with everything that had just happened, replaying every moment like a parched man finally tasting a drop of divine water.

 

Her small body cowering before him, the foolish bravery buried behind wide terror staring up at him, those blues absent of her remembered frames always perched along smiling cheeks.

 

A dimming ember of hope suddenly blazing into technicolor fire of reality that left him reeling.

 

‘ _Arrow do you copy?’_

 

A deeper baritone called in his ear, and still Oliver could not get his throat to work, to form words, to assure his comrades he was alright.

 

The splayed fingers before him clenched together on his inhale, opening again in disbelief to his frozen eyes on the exhale.

 

 _‘Arrow do you copy?_ ’

 

She was alive.

 

‘ _Arrow_!’

 

She was breathing.

 

‘ _Arrow_!’

 

She was just standing before him.

 

‘ _Oliver_!’

 

Oliver reached up, clicking his coms on, mouth falling open, the words all rushing to come out, bottlenecking together in a cluster of what he was saying.

 

“She’s alive,” was all he could utter, the verbal acknowledgement bringing a wash of anger with it.

 

Anger at himself.

 

Anger at her.

 

Anger at them.

 

At everyone who had given up hope. Convinced him to turn his back on her. When he knew— _he knew_ —she was smarter than that. Smarter than all of them. Smarter than anyone had ever given her credit for.

 

And she had been only cities away! Living in the slums like she had in Starling. He should have known.

 

‘ _Who’s alive?’_ Diggle asked over the coms, his tone annoyed at his lack of response.

 

The lick of anger again came to the surface, and Oliver didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to hear them in his ear, and he didn't want to be in this damn suit!

 

“Felicity, Diggle! She’s alive.” He snapped harshly, reaching up with his clenched fingers to rip the coms from his ear and flip the device off.

 

He didn't want to hear what Diggle had to say, he didn't want to hear what anyone had to say.

 

Oliver just needed to think.

 

He needed to re-evaluate everything.

 

And dammit to hell if he was going to let her slip away from him a second time.

 

Oliver looked over the darkened sky of Gotham, brows set in a hard line, body ready for a fight.

 

They were going to have that talk—once and for all.

 

There would be no more missed moments, no more lost time.

 

No more running away.

 

“Ready or not Felicity.” He uttered into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Hours later Oliver found himself storming into the bunker, his suit replaced with his typical henley teeshirt and dark jeans, body tense and eyes hard.

 

He was met by a semi-circle of his team; his sister Thea, Diggle, Roy, and the newest addition—one Laurel Lance.

 

The Lance sisters were a constant storyline in his life, and reluctantly he’d added the Black Canary to the foray, recognizing the capacity of his ability waining under the high profile missions the group had been undertaking for the better part of three years.

 

The on again off again relationship with Laurel was toxic at best. In his weakest moments he’d find himself in the familiar comfort of her arms, guilt mixed with an odd self-loathing beating at his chest afterwards. The concerned compassion and tense set of her shoulders now only grated on his nerves and made him more uncomfortable, the guilt that ate at him tinged with something more. He was unwilling to address that particular strand of thought for now. His eyes avoided Laurel to look at Diggle.

 

From the corner of Oliver’s eye he could tell Thea was watching him with that ever concerned sisterly gaze she’d slate his way. He was familiar with it by now, over the past four years he’d been subjected to that stare when she thought he wasn’t looking.

 

Roy darted his eyes nervously from person to person, clearly uncomfortable with the mood in the room. He was as much a hot head as Oliver was, and dealing with high emotional situations was not his forte.

 

Diggle was a different story.

 

Diggle was at times the easiest man to read, and others the hardest.

 

Standing now with his arms crossed and face blank, Oliver could barely discern what he was thinking, and was glad to have that to focus on. It was easier to be angry right now, and easier still to take it out on the man who was there from the beginning of it all.

 

Diggle was smart enough to know Oliver would’t be in a chatty mood when he arrived back to the bunker, but was a good enough friend to know he would need to.

 

Not that Oliver was ready to talk to anyone.

 

Seeing them all there both irritated and annoyed him, and the misplaced anger was easier to address than the other bubbles of emotions simmering to explode under it all.

 

And Oliver was angry.

 

But he couldn’t tell who he was angriest with most.

 

Wide blue eyes flashed in his mind, his hands balling into tight fist at his side, body tensing, ready for a fight.

 

Ready for anyone to say the wrong thing.

 

A shaky trigger finger away from releasing everything he’d bottled up for years.

 

Diggle could appropriately tell, for with a tilt of his head he addressed the room, his request leaving no argument and more of a polite demand. “Could we have the room?”

 

Oliver could see the indignation light in Laurel’s body as she turned towards Diggle, opening her mouth to protest before tightly shutting it at the look Diggle leveled her way.

 

There was a tense silence before Laurel begrudgingly conceded, but not before shooting another hard look towards Oliver, assessing him in a way that made him want to snarl at her for.

 

Oliver refused to remove his eyes from Diggle’s larger frame though, would not let her have whatever satisfaction she was looking for, ignoring the side eyes and quiet protest as everyone slowly left the bunker. Allowing himself only a moment of pain when Thea passed with a gentle squeeze of his arm.

 

Thea knew how much he’d lost over the past four years, and knew him well enough to know he’d talk to her when he was ready.

 

The echoing of retreating steps was loud in the quiet bunker, the solid closing of the heavy door sealing the tension in the room for only two.

 

“What happened out there?” Diggle asked steadily, his voice giving nothing away.

 

Diggle didn’t know Felicity. At best he knew _Megan,_ but Oliver always knew they were one in the same. As much as Felicity had disillusioned herself into thinking everything between them was a lie, Oliver knew better, and Oliver was never granted the liberty to prove that.

 

The anger was back again, his shoulders squaring, mind taking him back to that moment in Gotham.

 

Felicity staring up at him in terror. Her lithe body smaller than he remembered, her attire unfamiliar, hair a darker shade that must be her natural color. Her face clean of glasses, and the moderate makeup she used to wear a more modest touch of color now, one that only brought the stark blue of her eyes into clearer focus.

 

She was still so beautiful.

 

It had taken his breath away.

 

It had shaken his world.

 

It had broken his heart. At her. At him. At every miscommunication, every lost moment, every missed opportunity and senseless pain.

 

It made him _angry_.

 

“Felicity is alive.” Oliver growled out, watching the small twitch between Diggle’s brow before it smoothed out again.

 

“Oliver,” he began, and instantly Oliver knew what he was going to say.

 

He interrupted Diggle before he could continue, anger spiking higher with each word, “She’s alive Diggle, I saw her with my own eyes. She was standing right in front of me!”

 

Diggle’s brow furrowed again, this time staying, contemplating, evaluating, trying to gauge his delusions.

 

So many times had they had this conversation, but never did Oliver have the proof. Never had he seen Felicity with his own eyes.

 

That had all changed now. He knew she was alive.

 

There was nothing on this earth that would change that absolute.

 

“In Gotham?” Diggle asked, trying to crack Oliver’s information open further, to determine the validity of his claim.

 

Oliver couldn’t stand still anymore, the tension in his body vibrating to move, to fight, to do _something_.

 

He stalked past Diggle, stopping in front of the elaborate setup of computers and monitors, his hands clenching and releasing at his sides, eyes focusing on nothing and everything in front of him.

 

“Yes Diggle, in Gotham. Alive.” Oliver chopped out, turning partially back towards the man steadily watching his every move, “Terrified, but alive.”

 

He’d put that terror there. But in the desperation of the moment, watching her turn away from him, running away from him again, Oliver did the only thing he could think to stop her in her tracks.

 

She’d never been in any real danger with him there, but Felicity didn’t know that.

 

Felicity didn’t know anything about the Green Arrow.

 

Just as he’d known nothing of Felicity Smoak. Not until it was too late.

 

And the pendulum of lies is what wound them up in this mess to begin with.

 

But was his time gone now? Had she moved on? Was she happy? Did she still care?

 

“You can’t beat yourself up about it Oliver. For all intents and purposes she was dead.” Diggle placated, as if seeing the wheels and cogs moving furiously through his head.

 

Oliver slammed his hand on the aluminum table suddenly, the tension too much. He swung his hands out furiously, the resounding crash of equipment echoing off the walls and swinging wild eyes to Diggle, the anger clawing to get out. 

 

“But she’s not dead Diggle! She’s been alive and in Gotham this whole time!” He spat, focusing that furry on the man in front of him.

 

Diggle held both his hands open in submission, tilting his head and voicing the reason he’d always verbalized in times like this, “There was no way of knowing that man. We’ve always had a trace running on her name. Nothing has ever popped. She went dark, and she knew how to go dark. She must have faked her death, you know how hard it is to find people who don’t want to be found.”

 

And that was the crux of the situation.

 

Felicity had faked her death, had shaken them all.

 

Oliver could rationalize why she did it. Government agencies from Homeland Security to A.R.G.U.S. and every criminal mastermind jaded by her misdeeds would be hot on her tail following the blowout from Helix, but Oliver thought he was better than that, better at prowling the streets for the real information.

 

Oliver knew how easy it was to fake a death. He’d seen it done time and again throughout his life. He’d always held a small hope that she might have faked it all, that he could find her, that she’d let him find her, even after everyone had written him off as crazy. 

 

Had encouraged him to give up.

 

Had pleaded with him to stop looking for the lost dead girl.

 

She was just a criminal, why would he care so much anyways? It was the unasked undercurrent of every conversation on the topic.

 

But Oliver knew better, had known better. He was angry at himself for allowing the noise of everyone's misplaced reasoning to weaken his resolve. To hit the streets and look harder, to look like he was trained to do.

 

So he bottled the topic away, finding himself on missions, watching faces, peering into shadows, hoping for some signs that would point to an answer. Never committing himself fully to a search, secretly fostering the dim hope that felt like a child’s dream.

 

He was alone and absolute in that respect, unwilling to give that part up completely.

 

In the quiet of his mind Oliver could also admit to himself that he was scared. That he didn’t know what was better.

 

To keep looking for the dead, or find out one day she really was.

 

Oliver could admit that past the ember he secretly harbored he’d never allowed himself to dream of the what if’s. The feasible reality feeling more like a pipe dream and less like possibility. Never fantasized past the idea of her actually living. He didn't know what that would even look like. How it would transpire. How he really felt about it.

 

The emotional churning was endless, his mind a vapid hole of self-loathing and longing. 

 

And the reality was more powerful than anything he could have imagined.

 

To just stumble across her, by chance, by coincidence.

 

It felt like this was the first time the universe was giving him something, and it was a foreign feeling. One that left him skeptical, left him feeling like the other shoe was going to drop.

 

The world was never this kind, especially not to Oliver.

 

At Oliver’s silence Dig took a slow step forward, gauging his next words carefully, uncertain where that left everything.

 

“What do you want to do from here?” He asked.

 

The question was loaded. That same question one that ran on repeat in Oliver’s mind.

 

What did he want to do from here?

 

Where did he go from here?

 

Charge into her life? Demand more answers? Find everything out that he could? Oliver didn't know what he was supposed to do.

 

He didn’t know if he was even _ready_ to do anything.

 

But he needed to.

 

The urge to do something was one that wasn’t going anywhere, but for the first time in a long time, the obvious course of action was a blurred haze of unknowns.

 

So many things had changed since that last brief, and heartbreaking, conversation with Felicity.

 

Oliver had left then, feeling on a high. A small loss to a greater victory. Thinking all his ducks we’re in order. The tracker was on her persons, his professional life was being fixed, hard decisions were made, but before Oliver could follow through with his promise to finish their talk, to have the real conversation, everything had gone to hell.

 

The Undertaking was a criminal masterpiece that went far beyond what was on the usb encryption Felicity had given him, more organized, more destructive, and far more sinister than anyone could have planned.

 

It was only partially stopped.

 

Oliver was only able to prevent one bomb from exploding, and when the rest had set off it was to a magnitude of destruction no onecouldn’t have prepare for. Cities upon cities had been targeted. Executed with cold deliberation. Simultaneous explosions had rocked the country, hundreds of thousands of lives had been lost.

 

Felicity’s tracker had been lost in one of those explosions.

 

Oliver would never forget that moment.

 

The comforting blue dot, a beacon of possibilities yet unexplored, suddenly absent on the map.

 

Oliver could never forget the mad desperation he’s felt as he rushed to the location where the GPS had last pinged, unwilling to believe, needing to see, his heart pounding in denial. He’d never forget the ice that had seized his bones to the core upon seeing the total obliteration of rows and blocks of charred buildings. Their exposed beams and ruins standing out like daunting skeletons in hell.

 

It was chaos. 

 

There would have been no way to escape that alive.

 

Countless unidentified bodies had been pulled from the rubble, an archaic list of death coming out every day for hollowed eyes to see. 

 

He’d stuck to that list like every other person, waiting with baited breath, denial screaming in his head, the agony a slow and torturous wait, until the day came when he, like so many others, saw a name on that list that he never wanted to see.

 

And it was her real name.

 

_Felicity Megan Smoak._

 

The memory still made his heart to a shudder. The remembrance of disbelief, agony, heartbreak and misery one Oliver would never forget.

 

He’d been too late. Too slow in his attempt to tidy his life up with the perfect bow. And in the end none of that had mattered. 

 

In his distraction of pointless nonsense he missed his only opportunity to find her.

 

Oliver was a stubborn man though.

 

Stubborn or stupid.

 

Denial or delirium.

 

He’d refused to believe it.

 

But he’d become complacent in his fading hope.

 

“I don’t know.” Oliver finally admitted, the fight feeling like it was draining from his body, the turbulent emotions waxing and waning faster than he could keep up with.

 

Oliver wouldn’t give up. It went against his nature, from the first moment he was kidnapped, to this moment right here, he never wanted to become complacent again.

 

Oliver could feel his resolve steeling. He would right this wrong that had gone on for far, far, too long. 

 

With a fire burning in his eyes he looked over to Diggle, “I’m going to find her.” He told Diggle with a resolution he could feel settling deep with absolute.

 

“I’m going to find her, and we’re going to finish our talk.”

 

Diggle only stared back, knowing there was nothing he could say that would convince him otherwise.

 

“What about Highsmith?” Diggle questioned, the man still at large, his particular charm that of trafficking arms and women. They’d traced a lead to a cell organization in Gotham, and were one step closer to pinpointing his operations, but Oliver knew they were far enough along to continue without him.

 

“You’re more than capable Dig. Lead the team like we planned. If anything too serious comes up I’ll be there.” And though the words felt like lead in his mouth Oliver knew he would. The mission was still important, but this mission was for his life.

 

Wide blue eyes flashed in his minds eye.

 

It was long overdue for him to selfishly pressure a small iota of happiness in his bleak life.

 

Whatever outcome occurred, Oliver would accept it.

 

But he couldn’t leave it like it was.

 

“I have to find her Dig.” He told him, and Diggle only nodded, a small tilt lining his lips.

 

“I know man.” Diggle clasped his hand over Olivers shoulder, nodding once, “I hope you do this time.”

 

* * *

 

 

A week.

 

His search had lasted for a week. A week of casual inquiries around the block he’d stumbled across Felicity on, a week of prowling the area at night, a week of waiting to see if she would walk the same path again, a week of nervous anticipation and doubt wreaking havoc in his life.

 

Finally though, his efforts had paid off.

 

Standing in the shadows of a balcony from the same alley he’d first laid eyes on her Oliver felt the breath catch in his chest. As if she’d been beckoned by the universe, a gift he didn't deserve, a divine coincidence he wouldn't question, he heard soft steps echoing through the concrete labyrinth, waiting with anticipation to see the person daring to walk through the darkly lit space alone.

 

He wasn’t disappointed when a moment later a slip of a silhouette appeared, the frame too small to be that of a man, too delicate. The lights from the equally dangerous road casting shadows across her body, much like it hid his own.

 

She paused at the mouth of the alley, looking down the dim entrance.

 

Oliver could only guess what she was thinking.

 

He thought she would keep walking, choosing to stay to the path of street lamps and open spaces. He should have known better.

 

Felicity couldn't help herself when she was curious.

 

She took a hesitant step forward, then another, her pace growing steady, back straight. That messenger bag he knew held her trusted computer slug over her shoulder like the quiver slung over his.

 

A security light cast the first glimpse of her face to Oliver.

 

He felt his heart leap, the slopes and angles of her face coming into focus through the darkness.

 

Oliver stood as still as he could, knowing she wouldn't be able to see him from his vantage point, and took full advantage of his position, drinking in the image she made like a voyeur, committing every new detail to memory. 

 

Felicity was the same as the last he’d seen her.

 

Simple dark jeans, forest green shirt, a denim jacket to keep the slight bite of autumn from her skin. She looked smaller than he remembered, and Oliver wondered if she was eating properly, his concern a nagging pest.

 

Why would she even walk the streets so late alone?

 

Why, still, would she choose to go back down the ally she probably thought she would die in?

 

The would have to talk about her safety after this was all said and done. And if Oliver had any say in it he would make sure she was at least more equipped to deal with a dangerous situation.

 

His life was full of them after all, and he’d learned that the insistent need to always protect his friends and family was a pipe dream, there would be times that he couldn't. So he worked to equip them all with their own ability.

 

Felicity slowed her steps where the broken pipe was, the pierced hole still there. Gotham residents in this part caring just as little about the structural integrity as the Glades did.

 

Oliver watched as she gazed at the spot, wondering what she was thinking, watched as she shifted her attention forward, and then up, towards the rooftop he’d retreated up last time.

 

Oliver contemplated dropping before her again, wondered what she would think seeing him again, but then remembered the terror in her eyes from that night.

 

He decided against it, knowing she would probably think he would be there to finish something he’d started, and while he knew his presence again would spook her, he didn't want her to have the option of running from him again.

 

Not until he had a chance to say what he needed to say.

 

After that, Oliver conceded to himself, he would respect whatever decision she made.

 

If she didn't want him in her life, if he’d horribly misread every interaction they shared, if their time had passed, he would respect it.

 

It would be a new wound he would have to recover from, but it would be the finality he so desperately needed to move forward with in his life.

 

So he stood still, silently quietly watching as Felicity shook her head and began the trek down the alley to the opposite entrance. And with skills that were ingrained into his body from a young age, Oliver began the game, following her down winding blocks of buildings to a dingy apartment nestled between equally as decrepit establishments.

 

Apparently, he would have to advise her on her choice of living quarters too.

 

Oliver watched Felicity from a separate building as she entered the small apartments, his power of deduction leaving him confident that he could find her room, timing the point of her entry to the point of a light flipping on floors higher and knowing that was the one.

 

An excited adrenaline ran along his body, fingers clenching at his side in anticipation.

 

It was now or never.

 

The time to expose his own secrets, his own truth, finally here.

 

He waited a little longer, seeing lights dim and flip further inward, knowing his moment was now.

 

Oliver leapt with the help of his trained agility, grappling across the street unseen and landing quietly on the emergency fire escape outside one of her apartment windows.

 

With little effort he slid the window open, sliding quietly into the apartment and feeling his feet freeze as he turned to face the space.

 

It was a small dwelling, simple living space,small kitchen, a half hallway with one door opened to a lit room. From the echoing acoustics he could hear it was probably the bathroom, another door to the left going to what he assumed was a bedroom.

 

Nothing was decorated much, just small odds and ends that he suspected Felicity wouldn't mind parting with at a moments notice.

 

The life of someone always looking over her shoulder, always on the run, never comfortable anywhere they stayed.

 

Oliver was intimately familiar with the feeling.

 

His own escape from his past resembling this at one point in time.

 

He could hear Felicity shuffling around in the bathroom, could see her bag slung over the kitchen counter with her jacket, briefly hoping she was decent, and not in a state of total undress.

 

While he wouldn’t mind the view, this was neither the time or place.

 

And it would make his sudden appearance a bit more unwelcome than he already was.

 

Oliver didn't know how the next moment would go, but could only brace himself as he heard her moving about, feeling himself standing stiffly in the room as the light casting a shadow of her body moved, becoming clearer, placing her in his sight finally.

 

Oliver felt his breath catch at seeing her so close again, his heart pounding, body unmoving.

 

She was brushing her teeth, aimlessly walking out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen when she suddenly saw him.

 

Later, he could acknowledge the comical situation, but now he could only stare wordlessly.

 

Felicity’s eyes widened, a shocked cry leaving her occupied mouth. The toothbrush ripping from her mouth in a flurry of foam flying, the plastic apparatus held out towards him like a defense weapon, mouth wanting to fall open but clamping shut awkwardly to prevent toothpaste from frothing out.

 

“Hmmm!” She yelled incoherently at him, the sound muffled by her full mouth, body facing fully towards him.

 

Neither moved.

 

Oliver watched her eyes dart to the kitchen, and just as he suspected, in four quick strides she was standing in front of the sink, eyes never leaving his form. Felicity quickly spat the foam in her mouth out, reaching up with her other hand to swipe at her face and zoning her entire attention back at him.

 

“What are you doing in my apartment?!” She demanded, her words enunciated with a wave of her hand holding out that stupid toothbrush in front of her, wielding it like a weapon it certain was not.

 

“Felicity Smoak.” Oliver spoke, his voice warped by the voice modulator at his throat.

 

He could see the defenses building around her, her shoulders squaring, mouth thinning.

 

“What do you want with me?” She demanded again, her voice hard, the edge of anger and a dash of fear in the tone.

 

“I have a couple questions for you.” Oliver told her, watching her throat work as she swallowed heavily, her eyes darting to the door and back.

 

“I don't have any answers to give you.” She defended hotly, unwilling to submit to whatever interrogation she surely imagined he’d put her under.

 

“You have more than you know.” He ominously retorted, his own anger of unanswered questions and open ended lies coming to the forefront.

 

“I already gave all the information I had away,” Felicity told him, her hand wagging towards the door, “get out of my apartment!”

 

Her dismissiveness was to be expected, but Oliver was ready.

 

He didn't move, watching as a fire lit in her own eyes, undoubtably sick of every terrifying encounter she had with him.

 

Felicity waved that damn toothbrush at him again, and Oliver was hard pressed to yank it from her fingers. See what answers she would concoct without the safety of her misguided weapon of choice.

 

“Why are you stalking me?!” She yelled at his silence, and Oliver didn't like the way the accusation was thrown in his face, the need to defend himself a quick compulsion.

 

“Can you stalk the dead?”

 

She took a shocked step back, panic edging in her small frame.

 

“I’m not dead. Yet,” she spat back, and Oliver didn’t know how he wanted to reply, he wasn’t trying to terrify her more.

 

Felicity continued on, her personality uncomfortable in silence, a trait he knew too well. That mouth of hers was a freight train of words, even when she didn't want it to be. “I had to disappear, apparently even the Green Arrow was after my head.” She arched a frantic brow, trying—and failing—to gauge his intentions in her apartment.“Correction, is _still_ after my head.”

 

“I’m not here to kill you.” His voice was flat, even through the modulator.

 

Felicity huffed indignantly at him, the disbelief clear.

 

“You’re in my apartment! All leathered and ready to finish what everyone else thinks is done. What difference does it make anyways? Why come to finish the job? It’s been years, I never killed anyone, I was practically doing the same thing you do. It feels a lot like the pot calling the kettle black,” she paused, arching a mocking brow at him, “or green rather.”

 

Oliver couldn’t believe she would argue with someone so dangerous in a situation like this, but Felicity had always been a bit of a spitfire.

 

That was something she never hid from him in any form.

 

It was endearing. Warmed his heart in an odd way. Seeing the sliver of what he used to know coming from a situation of unknowns.

 

He didn't like to think she would do something so foolish to the wrong criminal thought.

 

“I’m not here to kill you.” Oliver repeated, trying to take the edge out of his voice.

 

Felicity waved that stupid toothbrush at him again.

 

“You’re not taking me back there.”

 

He knew what she meant by that, and was shocked by how angry it suddenly made him.

 

“Are you scared?” He couldn't help the sneer, his voice a mocking taunt. Angry that she would just write him off like that, angry that she could just move on with her life, angry that she would never want to come back to Starling, to face him, to talk to him.

 

Oliver didn't know how this conversation was going to go coming in here, and this wasn't what he was anticipating.

 

“Of course I am!” Felicity yelled in the face of his mockery, “How could I go back after everything I’ve done? Would you?!”

 

The anger finally took over.

 

“I don’t run from my problems!”

 

At one point in his life Oliver might have, but not now, not ever again. He chose to face them head on, to air them, to learn from them.

 

Felicity took a step back as if he’d physically slapped her, brows pulling down in her own anger.

 

“I’m not running away from my problems! I’ve been fixing them from the moment I left.” She hotly defended.

 

“How can a dead girl fix anything.”

 

Oliver knew he was being harsh, the statement like gravel on an open wound, but the pleasantries of this conversation had long since passed.

 

Felicity was silent for a long moment, mouth opening and closing, the words not coming forward.

 

Her frame suddenly loosened, arm dropping to her side, eyes falling from their fixed position of his frame to the couch wedge against the stained wall of her apartment.

 

“It’s personal.”

 

Oliver couldn't help the reactive arch to his brow, she couldn't see his face anyways. His own armor firmly in place, hidden behind the wall of shadows and anger.

 

He seized on the shift in topic, knowing this might be his only chance to hear an unfiltered truth from the flighty woman he’d agonized over for the past four years.

 

“What happened? You break some poor fools heart?” He taunted, wanting to see the fire back in her body, not this sad defeat she carried around now.

 

Felicity scoffed, waving her hand dismissively towards the front door.

 

“Why do you care so much anyways? What, are you following me? Just go back to Starling and leave me alone. There’s nothing left for me there. There’s no need for you to be here.”

 

Oliver was done playing this charade with her, his anger mounting with her flippant disregard of his questions. And why would she answer him? He was the Green Arrow.

 

She needed to have this talk with Oliver Queen.

 

With that thought Oliver steeled his resolve, his body humming with what he was about to do, the doubt pushed to the back of his mind. He reached up, pulling the hood from his head harshly and flipping his voice modulator off, the mask falling from his face, taking swift strides forward until he was only a small distance away, exposing himself fully before her. Ripping the last of his own defenses down.

 

“I will never leave you alone Felicity! Not until you actually listen to me for one damn moment!”

 

The loud bark of his unfiltered voice shook the walls of her small space, the baby blue eyes widening further than he’d ever seen, mouth falling open in shocked disbelief.

 

He could see the cords of her throat working, pulse rapid under the skin, body frozen and eyes locked to his angry expression.

 

“O—Oliver?”

 

She choked his name out, the fight from earlier gone completely, her tone breathy and barley a whisper.

 

For once it felt good to be the one not shocked in the face of truth, to be the one ripping the carpet out from under someone.

 

“Do you know what it was like Felicity? To think you were dead? To know how many secrets were still between us?” He couldn't help the steady rise of his voice, his heart pounding loudly in his own ears, anger giving him the courage he needed to see this through.

 

Because the lies between them would be through after this.

 

Felicity could only stare up at him, unblinking saucers showing the disbelief, agony, and sadness clearly, mouth agape.

 

Oliver wasn't done yet though.

 

“Do you know what it’s like to think I could never tell you the truth? To never right my own wrongs? To never be given the chance?”

 

A sheen of tears were beginning to form on those beautiful blues, and as much as Oliver wanted to tone his anger down he couldn't—not yet. Not until he could get her to just listen to him for once.

 

“You ran away before I could even tell you. Just left, even after I tracked you down in the first place. You wouldn't let me get a word in, so set! So ready to write me off! You thought I was so perfect, put me on a pedestal. The you kicked the chair out from underneath me!”

 

Felicity raised her hands to her mouth at the harsh accusations, covering it quickly, the pooling tears dropping with a quick blink, dripping down her cheeks.

 

The raw emotions bared before him made the raging fire cool marginally, had Oliver turning from her distraught face, brining his own gloved hands across his face. Re-focusing his mind from the angry torrent he was throwing at her.

 

A small part relished in the thought of shaking her world up as much as she had his, but it was a petty thought, and he wasn't here to make her feel worse.

 

He wanted to make things better.

 

He took a steady breath, cooling his emotions down, organizing his thoughts carefully, setting his mind on the mission.

 

“There’s always another way. I told you that we could figure it out, but you were so stubborn.” Oliver admonished softer after a tense moment, turning back towards her and watching as she tried to suppress a gasping inhale.

 

He couldn't watch her struggle with those emotions so harshly, was shocked by his compulsion to comfort her, even after all this time. Wanting desperately to smooth the hurt between them.

 

Wanting desperately to break the barriers between them down.

 

Oliver reached a gloved hand out, clasping the side of her head softly before trailing his thumb along the trail of wet tears streaking down her cheek.

 

More quickly fell down their path, and Oliver shook his head gently.

 

“There’s always another way.”

 

Felicity’s breath heaved harshly, her body shuddering.

 

“There’s still another way. We can always find another way.”

 

Felicity released her hands from around her mouth, one reaching up to grasp at his wrist, the other hovering in the space between them.

 

Oliver grabbed her wrist, pulling it forward and placing her hand across his heart, letting her feel the quickened pulse, letting her feel how it still raced for her. Letting the very last barrier down, and putting everything he had left before her. Terrified she would turn him away still, terrified she would still be unwilling to give them a chance.

 

“Oliver,” she whispered into the space, her glassy eyes staring deeply into his own.

 

He felt her slip her hand from his clasped against his chest, fingers slowly raising to skim the edge of his jaw, the touch only a feathers graze, but the first skin to skin contact in so long having Oliver closing his own eyes. Relishing in the feeling, his heart beating wildly in his chest, longing desperately to have her back in his life.

 

To have this again.

 

To be with her again.

 

“You’re the Green Arrow,” she whispered quietly, her voice trembling with things she never knew, answers Helix never had.

 

Oliver opened his eyes to peer back into her own again, letting the raw emotions seep into his voice, “please don't push me away again Felicity.” He pleaded, his own voice a soft whisper between them.

 

She closed her eyes with a hiccuping sob, and before Oliver knew what Felicity was doing she was suddenly moving, lithe arms wrapping around his neck, banding tight, face buried in his chest.

 

Oliver felt the breath in his chest hitch, his own arms moving to clasp tightly around her body, head lowering to be in her orbit.

 

This was what he wanted.

 

For so long this is what he was missing.

 

This is what always felt like home, and for the first time it felt like all the weight was lifted from his shoulders.

 

All the lies between them gone.

 

Just Oliver and Felicity.

 

“Please don't push me away again Felicity,” Oliver pleaded into her shoulder, needing to hear her say it, needing to know she wouldn't run away from him again.

 

He felt her shake her head against him, arms tightening around his neck.

 

“Im so sorry,” she apologized, her chest heaving with her tears, and Oliver rubbed his hand in soothing circles on her back, shushing her with a natural sway he couldn't control.

 

Felicity made him a sap. Made him want to bundle all that pain away. Made him want to do better, be better.

 

“Please don't apologize to me,” Oliver muttered, his own lies also a factor in what landed them in this mess.

 

Felicity shook her head again.

 

“I was such a fool,” she wept softly. “All this time, and I was such a fool. I never stoped thinking about you,” Felicity admitted, her voice muffled by his suit and tears, his own heart constricting at the admission. “I never once stopped thinking about you.”

 

Oliver could feel his own eyes watering, could feel his own pain surfacing. He closed them quickly, tucking her deeper against him.

 

“I didn't either.” He muttered against her hair, his throat closing with the secret he’d carried for four years.

 

“Im so sorry.” She apologized again, a sob choking her off.

 

“Me too.” He whispered, raising his head to burry his nose in her hair, to take her in like he had never allowed himself of dreaming. “We can figure this out,” he promised, feeling his confidence swell with the nod against his chest, feeling like they were finally on the right path.

 

“We will figure this out.” He promised.

 

The road ahead of them was unexplored. Oliver knew it wouldn't be an easy one, the logistics one he didn't even know how to go about.

 

None of that mattered though.

 

With Felicity in his arms, with Felicity in his life, Oliver knew that anything was possible.

 

They could make it work, the details something that would come later.

 

For now though, in the dimly lit apartment, with nothing but truths between them and a cleared slate in front of them, the world was at their fingertips.

 

For the first time in such a long time Oliver could feel something he hadn’t in a long while.

 

A sense of home.

 

Happiness.

 

Love.

 

And that was probably the strongest of all. The guiding force in his manic denial of her death, the passion of this mission. The deepest longing in his heart.

 

The ember of hope he’d fostered close to his heart for years, unwilling to let it extinguish.

 

“I love you,” Oliver confessed, unable to keep that secret from her any longer, watching as she pulled away from him, reaching a hand towards his face, palm warm against his cheek, eyes staring deeply into his own, a small sad smile blooming on her face. “I love you, Felicity.”

 

Felicity studied his face, eyes roaming from his mouth to his nose, gliding to his lips.

 

“I was such a fool,” she whispered, “in my love for you I almost destroyed us.”

 

Oliver felt his heart stutter in his chest, hearing the words slipping from her own mouth.

 

She smiled happily at him, voice a soft whisper between them. “I love you too Oliver. I always have.”

 

Oliver smiled at her, leaning towards her, no longer fighting the desire that was bubbling in him since he’d seen her again from that dark ally.

 

Their lips met in the sweetest of reunions, a piece of happiness clicking into his soul.

 

Oliver would change nothing of the past to have this moment right here with her.

 

Felicity pushed him away, her face aghast, mock anger on her mouth. She gently punched him in the shoulder, “I cant believe you almost shot me with an arrow!”

 

It was the last thing Oliver was expecting to fall from her lips, and he couldn't help the amused smile cracking his lips, a small chuckle slipping out.

 

“You were never in any real danger.” He assured, pulling her back towards him.

 

Felicity giggled, the mood lightened, feeling suddenly playful, the sound a tinkling bell of happiness he would aim to hear every day. “You totally almost shot me with an arrow!” She protested with a laugh, her mirth an infectious mood.

 

Oliver arched a brow, bending down and scooping her up bellow the legs, her shocked laughter filling the air. “I would never shoot you with that arrow.” He teased, relishing in the way she wrapped her legs around his waist, arms twining around his shoulders.

 

She leaned forward catching his lips with her own, the passion that always ran between them sparking to life.

 

When they separated she was breathy, a happy shine to her eyes, a beautiful smile on her lips.

 

“Well, I can think of one arrow I wouldn’t mind.” She teased and Oliver growled playfully, bouncing her once in her arms and hearing her elating laugh.

 

“Ms. Smoak, are you trying to seduce the Green Arrow?” He mocked.

 

“Depends,” Felicity breathlessly giggled, leaning forward until her lips were a hair from his, “is it working?”

 

“Oh, its working just fine.” Oliver teased back, sealing the space between them and walking them across the room.

 

“This must must be a dream,” Felicity mumbled against his mouth, fingers reaching up to run through his hair. “I’m dreaming again.”

 

Oliver arched a brow, smirking at the dazed look in her eyes. “Do you dream about me Felicity?” He teased, alarmed when her face turned sad, her eyes tracing along his face.

 

“Not like this,” she confessed, grazing fingers along the bone of his brow to the arch of his nose, “never like this.”

 

Oliver leaned forward, kissing her soundly again, willing himself to pull the bad thoughts from her head. He never imagined how easy it would be to fall back into this happiness, knew there were new darknesses to shine a light on, but was ready to face them with her.

 

“Then let’s give you something new to dream about.”

 

Oliver didn't know what the future had in store for them, but he was ready.

 

Whatever obstacles came between them he would be ready.

 

And for once, he was confident that they would defeat them.

 

Just Felicity and Oliver.

 

Together.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~Hope you enjoyed!


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